Operation Not to Hot
by bowlerhatfringe
Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt is dorky, nerdy, and has serious confidence issues. He doesn't really care about himself until he sees Matthew Williams, AKA super-hot-hockey-jock. With Matthew's heart in mind, Gilbert undergoes a complete transformation. PruCan
1. let you put your hands on me

**Title: **Operation Not to Hot  
><strong>Fandom: <strong>Hetalia Axis Powers  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>PruCan. Spamano and Gertaly mentioned in passing.  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Gilbert Beilschmidt is dorky, nerdy, and has serious confidence issues. He doesn't really care about himself until he sees Matthew Williams, AKA super-hot-hockey-jock. With Matthew's heart in mind, Gilbert undergoes a complete transformation.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Swearing, innuendo, canoodling, and OOC-ness.  
><strong>Word Count: <strong>3, 943**  
><strong>**Song: **Do Ya Think I'm Sexy _by_ Rod Stewart (I'm thinking more along the_ stylings of effing smexy __**Darren Criss.**__ UNF_).

_a/n:_I…I don't know where this came from. Let alone if I know if I can even _write_ in character to Hetalia characters. Seriously. I'm so nervous I think I'm going to explode but this just _wouldn't stop nanananana nagging me._ –twitch-  
><em>an2:_ …I like glasses. I might be biased because I wear them (damn you, visual impaired-ness!), but I think guys wearing thick frames it hot. Also skinny jeans and bright t-shirts. *swoons*  
><em>an3:_ I do like, a hundred parenthesis rants in this fic. Woot woot! Feel free to smack me.  
><em>an4:_ link to the shoes in this fic: http : / / www. dmusastore . com/ p-3289 -1461 . aspx (remove spaces)  
>an5: if this was a M fic, Prussia would _so_ be bottoming.

**Disclaimer:** Do not own Hetalia, damnit!

* * *

><p>Gilbert wasn't the kind of guy to mope around and complain how chicks didn't dig him.<p>

How totally unawesome would that be? Nah, he sat around and played video games. Virtual girls (and guys) appreciated his heroic efforts (which usually consisted of defending a village/spacestation/the world from monsters/aliens/nazi zombies), and Gilbert was satisfied with that.

That's basically how elementary and middle school went. Gilbert was smart so grades were never an issue. His social life lacked _extremely_. Not that Gilbert minded. No, he had awesome friends. Granted, he's know them since he was in diapers, so he's sort of forced to be with them.

Friend #1: Ludwig Beilschmidt. His little bruder. And yes, Ludwig (affectionately dubbed West) counts. Pushing his younger brother's buttons always managed to amuse Gilbert. He had his stern moments, but he was undoubtly _always_ kind and just. Plus he brought home the _cutest _thing on two legs which brought us to…

Friend #2: Feliciano Vargas. One of the rare exceptions to the I'm-obligated-to-be-your-friend-forever-since-we-sort-of-popped-out-of-the-same-lady-slash-you-pushed-me-in-the-sand-box-plus-you're-my-cousin-friend only policy. Feliciano lived a few houses down from the Beilschmidt's with his brother Loviono Vargas and grandfather Romero Vargas (they principal of their _high school._ Talk about special treatment!) Basically Feliciano met Ludwig in middle school and clung to him like a baby panda. Not that Ludwig really minds, judging by the bright red flush on his face whenever Feliciano hugs his arm tightly and nuzzles his bicep. Gilbert was really just waiting for them to hookup already, because they were being totally oblivious and unawesome.

Friend #3&4: Antonio Fernandez Carriedo and Francis Bonnefoy. Together they were the Bad Friends Trio (or Bad Touch Trio, but that was mostly dominated by Francis and Antonio). They all met while they were in diapers. And even then they were wreaking havoc amongst the other children. Gilbert didn't have many classes with them now, himself taking high level course (he was a whole grade ahead of them). Antonio was hopelessly in love with Lovino Vargas while Francis was hopelessly forever loose and nude. Well, when the cops weren't knocking on his door anyway.

Yup. That was basically it for Gilbert. There was Roderich and Elizabeta, but they didn't count because a) Elizabeta wanted nothing more than to beat his face in with a frying pan (and she really wanted him to pose for her sketches) and b) Gilbert only liked Roderich for his reactions whenever Gilbert pranked him.

So Gilbert was really content with his life. Video games, family friends, and the occasional prank.

And then he entered his third year in high school.

* * *

><p>"Who is <em>that<em>?" Gilbert sputters, staring at the table in the back with wide crimson eyes. He can't tear his eyes away. There's a gorgeous guy with wavy blonde hair and pretty violet eyes being crowded by meaty jocks. It's like Gilbert is looking at a flower surrounded by _elephants_.

Francis is busy batting his eyes at Arthur Kirkland who is standing in line waiting for his fish and chips. Arthur promptly flips him the bird and turns away. With a huge, heaving sigh, Francis looks at Gilbert. "What did you say _mon_ _ami_?"

"That boy." Gilbert says almost too softly for Francis to hear. "The blonde one with glasses."

Francis doesn't even need to look to know who it is. "Ah, you mean Alfred F. Jones?"

"Is that his name?" Gilbert asks, too busy staring at the boy who suddenly just giggled at what someone said.

Antonio, who was munching on fries, shakes his head. "No, mi amigo. That's Matthew Williams. Alfred Jones is his brother."

Francis squints. "Ah, je suis désolé. Vous avez raison. Oui! Ce garçon est Matthew Williams!"

The culry haired Spainard stares at Gilbert innocently. "Why do you want to know?"

Gilbert doesn't know how to answer without sounding like a stuttering teenage girl. Which is totally uncool and not awesome, so he dips a fry into a pile of ketchup onto his plate before jamming it into his mouth. "No reason…"

Francis has a knowing twinkle in his eye, and he pats Gilberts shoulder. "Ahhh, is this l'amour? Has our friend tombré en amour?"

When a pinkish flush graces the tips of Gilbert's ears, Antonio and Francis smile at each other. Gilbert shoves another fry in his mouth and mumbles "I'm not in love!"

But it comes out more like "im nt en lurvvv!" due to the food in his mouth.

Lovino walks past their table and Antonio all but swoons, excusing himself from the table with bright emerald eyes to chase after the feisty Italian. Francis chuckles. Their day is turning out pretty average, except for, you know, Gilbert seeing the most handsome guy _ever_.

It's not new to anyone that Gilbert's gay. And nobody really cares. He's just one of the schools unpopular guys in huge baggy sweaters and impossibly big glasses. It doesn't help that he's albino. So with gay added onto his plate, you'd think he'd be teased more than he already was. But Gilbert was too awesome to put up with that kind of bullshit and honestly, homophobia is thankfully low-key at this school (plus, it helped that all the guys at this school were either bi, gay, in the closet, or "comfortable with their sexuality").

Also, Francis and Antonio, two of the more popular and handsome guys at school, are both flaming gays. Well, more Antonio than Francis. Francis believes love has no gender (no matter how noble it sounds, Gilbert still thinks it's a way for Francis to get in everybody's pants/skirt).

So Antonio chasing after Lovino is no news.

And girls' landing in Francis lap during lunch isn't a surprise to Gilbert. Because it always happens. These things were habits—clockwork, even; Gilbert knew they were coming.

However Francis and Gilbert are not prepared when Femke, the schools' prettiest cheerleader and the sister to Antonio's arch-enemy, Orlando, sits beside Francis. Well, basically beside Francis. It's hard to say beside him when she's practically in his lap. Gilbert watches incredulously because, really? This girl is the president of the celibacy club. And yeah, Gilbert doesn't have too many morals but even he thinks that it's a bit _effed_ up to have her draping herself on the schools (sorry, Francis) official man-slut.

Not that Francis cares. Nope. He just coos into her ear and whispers something that has her giggling. Gilbert throws a fry at Francis, who pouts at him. "Get a room or there's more where that came from." he says.

Femke narrows her eyes, but does get off Francis' lap and pulls him up by the hand. "You're just jealous he's getting some and a nerdy little snot like you _isn't_." With a 'hmph', she drags a rather conflicted Francis away. But she's sashaying her hips so dramatically that Gilbert knows Francis is no longer conflicted with choosing his friend over a girl.

And Gilbert doesn't blame him. With a sigh, Gilbert pushes his meal away and in front of him. Today is _totally_ unawesome.

But then he glances at Matthew Williams, who happens to be staring back. Suddenly flustered, Gilbert ducks his head and gets up from his seat.

So maybe today wasn't completely unawesome. He had someone to pin after, now.

And…romance is good, right?

* * *

><p>Wrong. Completely, and utterly <em>wrong<em>.

It's been a couple months since Gilbert nursed a rather huge affection for Matthew Williams, and Gilbert knows a thing or two about the boy he's crushing on.

A) Matthew is French-Canadian; after bumping into him accidentally and the boy said something in French. And gosh, Gilbert hadn't stopped looking at his lips the entire time Matthew apologized (Gilbert apologized profusely as well, which wasn't like him at all, but Matthew gave him a shy smile and walked away).

B) Matthew plays hockey. And to put it in simple words, _he kicks ass_. Gilbert managed to sneak into one of the practices and he nearly fell right over as Matthew skated onto the rink gracefully before slamming and smacking into other players, yelling a few things in French that he was _positive_ were expletives. And when he took his helmet off, blonde hair matted against his sweaty forehead, Gilbert had to leave because it was _simply too much_.

C) Matthew is in his chemistry class. Which is a surprise, because Gilbert, in grade 11, is a year above most of his peers (it's a grade 12 course afterall). He knew Matthew was his age but he didn't know he took some high level courses. And Matthew looks at him sometimes. With those big, blue-violet eyes. And sometimes Gilbert can't look away. Or he does look away—flushed and scribbling intensely into his notebook.

D) Matthew is kind. When someone drops their books, pencils, etc. he helps them pick up their things. When he bumps into someone, he apologizes. He's quiet and polite with his peers and teachers, and when a teacher's kid came in for class one time because the daycare was closed, Matthew played with them while the teacher ran to make photocopies. And damn, was it ever cute and wonderful.

In conclusion: Matthew was a kind, sexy, intelligent, athletic little French-Canadian that reduces Gilbert to unintelligible syllables, and Gilbert wanted to rut against that fine boy until the sun rose.

Yup. Teenage hormones were awesome.

One problem.

Gilbert was none of those things.

Gilbert was the guy who had a pet chick and screamed at his online video game friends through a mic. His username was _Ore-sama_, for goodness sake. His white, silvery hair was always messy and tangly. And not even in the attractive 'just-had-sex' kind of way. His nails were bitten off and his skin was super pale due to his albinism. Gilbert also owned unattractive glasses, the frame making his face looked closed in and a hundred times less teenager-ish. Gilbert didn't want contacts because he truly believed they were going to suck the moisture out of his eye. And that wouldn't be awesome. To add on to the pile of unredeeming qualities, he was a horrible dresser; he wore baggy sweaters, sweat pants or unattractively ripped jeans, and sometimes decent shoes. Every other day he wore beat up black loafers. In short, Gilbert was a mess.

But underneath, he was brimming with good looks.

Right?

Everyone had their inner male super model!

To win the affections (or even the _attention_) of a one Matthew Williams, Gilbert would need to sex himself up. Make the French-Canadian's jaw drop so much, his mouth met the ground.

Which is why he dialled a number he never hoped on dialling.

"Hello! Elizabeta Héderváry speaking!"

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you <em>asked<em> me. I'm still wondering if this a dream! Oh, but if it is, don't let me _wake up_!" Elizabeta squees, helping Gilbert into a tight pair of gray skinny jeans. Gilbert grunts as the jeans finally cooperate and slide up his legs. There's a mirror to his right and all Gilbert can think is _'Wow. My legs are tiny…ha, but my ass is great! One point for the awesome me!'_ Elizabeta suddenly smacks his ass and he lets out a loud yelp.

"Stop checking yourself out. I know I pick the best clothes but _honey,_ this is only the _test pair_." she clucks. She writing down something on her iPhone, and Gilbert cranes his neck to read it.

Oh, it's his measurements. Wait, she doesn't even have any measuring tape. How…?

"Oh don't look at me like that. My hands are like _Francis_. I could grope your legs for two minutes and know every nook and cranny."

Agh! Mental images he so did not need!

Gilbert is still wearing his sweatshirt and glasses, hair hopelessly flying everywhere. Elizabeta circles him like a hawk ready to pounce it's pray. And frankly, Gilbert is terrified. "What?" he manages to say as Elizbeta hums.

"Just thinking of what colour would match your skin tone. But you're so wonderfully pale you can wear basically any colour. Well, except white. You can't wear too much of that." She leaves the room for a moment and Gilbert hears shuffling in her bedroom. He's in the bathroom right now, inspecting the jeans curiously. Elizabeta rushed back to the bathroom holding a pair of fake glasses. "Okay lean down so I can do something."

Gilbert obliges, and he fears for his life as a creepy look passes Elizabeta's face. She swipes his glasses off and Gilbert cries out as she slaps the fake pair on. He can't see a damn thing and all he hears is a deep intake of breath from Elizabeta.

"A mindenit, te szép!" she exclaims. "Change into your sweat pants, put your glasses back on, get your wallet, and go start your car." She pushed him down the stairs while yelling 'goodbye and I'll see you guys at dinner!' to her parents. Gilbert is grabbing for his pants and shoots Elizabeta a 'what the heck' look.

"We're going shopping!" she cackles.

"Oh, _mein gott_." Gilbert groans.

* * *

><p>It's well past midnight and Gilbert is lying on his bed, exhausted and texting Lizzy, Francis, and Antonio. After the shopping trip, Elizabeta squee'd and jumped and glomped Gilbert, telling him how happy she was he was 'in love' and that he could call 'big sister Lizzy' any time he needed help.<p>

(Although he wouldn't admit it, Gilbert was really glad she helped him).

_To: Gilbo_

_From: Franny_

_Sooo mon ami! How did the shopping trip go?_

_To: Franny_

_From: Gilbo_

_you'll see tmmrw, won't you?_

_To: Gilbo_

_From: Franny_

_Oooh, did she teach you how to tease while you were shopping? ;)_

_To: Franny_  
><em>From: Gilbo<em>

_It's midnight. I'm too tired to sext you ;)_

_To: Gilbo_

_From: Franny_

_Mon dieu! She has transformed you! I'm so proud of you (and her)._

Gilbert chuckled and finished answering Antonio's text before he rolled onto his side on his bed, flicking off his bedside lamp and resting his glasses and cellphone aside.

Hopefully, tomorrow would prove to be fruitful.

* * *

><p>Gilbert nearly gives Francis a heart attack in the school parking lot.<p>

"Toni, tell me I'm dreaming."

"But you're not…"

"_Tell me I'm dreaming_!" Francis squeaked, tugging on the thin fabric of Antonio's lime v-neck t-shirt. Antonio shakes his head and pinches Francis, hard. The French boy yelps, shooting a glare at his Spanish friend.

"You're not dreaming. It's really Gilbert."

Because, Gilbert looks fucking sexy.

He's in these super tight black skinny jeans that hug him in _all the right places_. He's rocking a pair of white and blue Doc Marten's, jeans easily tucked in. His torso is covered by a low white v-neck that shows off the muscle he actually has, defining his abs and upper body muscles. Overtop of that v-neck is a red, blue and black plaid shirt. The sleeves reach his elbows and the colour is dominated by red. His face—oh gosh his face; he's smirking and wearing a pair of thick frame glasses that sort of arch at the tips. His hair is actually brushed and styled, sort of spiky and sort of messy. Very Gilbert-like, somehow. It seems like Gilbert convinced Lizzy to let him wear his rubber bands. One of them is black and says 'TALK NERDY TO ME" while another is blue and says "AWESOME". They must have compromised, because a wallet chain is hanging from a belt loop, wallet in his back pocket while a checkered studded belt keeps his pants up. And anyone who knew Gilbert knows he _hates_ belts and chains.

Gilbert grins as he catches what his friends are saying, shutting the door of his beaten up Dodge and walking towards them. When he stops in front of them, he swears Antonio is smiling proudly and Francis is ready to swipe his belt away.

(Not that it would matter. His jeans a basically plastered to his legs.)

"She's a miracle worker! Elle est une artiste!" Francis cries, trying to launch himself at Gilbert. Antonio holds him back and smiles warmly at his friend.

"You look great. You are comfortable, sí?"

Gilbert grins, does a twirl, and winks at Antonio. "Ja! You think he'll fall over from my awesomeness?" Gilbert tries to control the nervous edge in his voice. Because, really, this plan will all go to shit if Matthew doesn't even give it a glance.

Antonio laughs. "If he doesn't we'll trip him so it looks like it."

Puffing his chest out in an attempt to be manly, Gilbert pressed the button on his key and his car beeps to notify it's locked. "Let's enter the threshold, men!"

* * *

><p>Gilbert isn't prepared for everyone's head to turn and stare. He only wanted the attention of Matthew. So to say he's overwhelmed (happily, though) is a bit of an understatement. Antonio is on his left while Francis is on his right, all three of them walking casually down the hallway. Everyone refers to them as the Bad Friends Trio. They always favoured Antonio and Francis, calling Gilbert the tag-along. But today, with everyone's eyes on him, Gilbert felt a lot more confident than he had all of his life.<p>

Which was saying something, because Gilbert's life is pretty damn awesome. He beats nazi-zombies and faceless monsters, for crying out loud!

Femke is pressed against her locker with another boy leaning in, but she pushes him away when Gilbert goes past. She twirls her index finger in some stray hair, hips moving to one side and cheerleading skirt hiking up a couple inches.

Gilbert really loves that he's gay and doesn't go for girls like her.

It was rush, having all these girls (and some guys) staring and whispering. When he reaches his locker (conveniently beside Francis and Antonio), Gilbert pulls out his chemistry textbook and notebook. He takes a deep breath.

Francis smiles reassuringly. "Mon cher, if he does not like how you are dressed, he is blind."

Gilbet nods unsurely. He shuts his locker quickly and catches sight of Antonio giving him the thumbs up before the Spaniard chases after Lovino, who was shouting at Ludwig while Feliciano smiled obliviously.

Gilbert walks alone to his class because Francis has Home Ec. (he basically dominates over all the girls in that class. Francis can cook like a _dream_). When he enters, some girls giggle excitedly. Gilbert takes his usual seat that rests in the very back by the window. He's slipping his textbook under his chair when a shadow casts over him.

And holy fuck, it's Matthew Williams.

Gilbert is not mentally prepared for this. He's staring right into those violet eyes that say so much yet at the same time, so little. He's pretty sure his palms are gross and sweaty (a trait he abhors greatly) and his breath is a bit shaky. It takes all his will power not to stutter out something stupid. Everyone is staring and it's extremely unnerving. Especially since, you know, Matthew is staring so intently at Gilbert that he's starting to internally flip out.

"Are you_ trying_ to test me?" the blonde angel croaks, but Gilbert is too busy to think about what he said because _this is totally awesome_. That's officially the first things he has said to Gilbert, and not in a panicked, apologetic frenzy.

Gilbert snaps out of his trance. _Mysterious and cool. Mysterious and cool!_ Yeah, follow what Lizzy told him to do! Act, _cool._

Gilbert's never been cool so he thinks that advice was totally _fucked_ and unawesome.

"Test you?" Gilbert says, all too innocently. Yeah. This is he can do. From all his flirty, playful banter with Francis and Antonio, maybe he can actually apply it to his real life! But honestly, he doesn't understand what Matthew is asking. Test him? Since when? Gilbert's hardly even interacted with him. He didn't even have the balls to attempt _talking_.

And suddenly Matthew is pulling Gilbert out of his seat by his hand, dragging him out the class quickly before the teacher comes in and takes attendance.

Some girls cry out miserably.

It strokes Gilbert's ego (just a bit; he's too focused on the _warm soft wonderful_ hand in his, right now).

Matthew's leading him to a rather famous corner in their school, one famous for couples to makeout in. And Gilbert is, once more, internally flipping shit.

The hockey jock pulls him into the partial darkness of the corner, pushing him against the wall. "Oh, _mon dieu_, you're wearing _skinny jeans_."

Gilbert involuntarily looks down at himself. Matthew hadn't—oh right. He was had been sitting down when Matthew approached him.

Suddenly there's a soft, insisting pressure on his mouth and Gilbert realizes, _oh. That's Matthew Effing Williams mouth on mine._

His day just reached new levels of awesome.

Gilbert's sort of frozen, hands twitching at his sides as Matthew kisses him deeply. It doesn't take too long before his hands launch up to wrap around Matthew's neck, mouth opening up and a needy sound (which he will forever deny) escaping his mouth.

_He's kissing Matthew._

_He's kissing the boy he's been pining after for so long._

The Canadian's tongue is twisting and curling with Gilbert's and it's not too long before Matthew's hands wander down Gilbert's chest, feeling the muscle there and groaning. Gilbert's desperately trying to anchor himself, which he finally accomplishes when he places his hand on the back of Matthew's neck, the other hand resting on Matthew's hip.

Then it's all rushing to a halt as Matthew pulls away, gasping deeply as Gilbert's hands fall away. Gilbert's not far off, gulping in air that he's denied. Gilbert dimly realizes that they're both flushed and puffy-lipped. He's too busy looking into those eyes again.

"Wow." is all Gilbert can managed to say.

Matthew nods his head. Apparently he can't speak.

Gilbert is nervous, but he wraps his arms around the Canadian and pulls him in for a tight hug. "I guess it worked."

Matthew is blinking in surprise. "Wait, what?"

Gilbert feels the tips of his ears grow hot. "My awesome outfit. I _finally_ got your attention."

Matthew is silent before his body starts shaking and small titters of laughter are escaping his lips. Gilbert is confused as Matthew outright giggles, but doesn't care when Matthew finally reciprocates the hug. "Getting my attention?" the Canadian laughs, feeling a bit dumb.

Gilbert raises a barely existent brow. "Yes?"

The blonde is stealing a kiss before Gilbert can say anything, and then he's pulling back with a fond smile. "You caught my attention way before all this. I noticed you on the first day back to school. You're in my chemistry class, you know."

Gilbert gapes at him. So, Matthews been watching him for _that long?_ Just like him? "O-Oh." Gilbert tries to find words, but instead he chuckles. "Wow, we're stupid. That is pretty unawesome."

Matthew nods his head, a grin gracing his face. "We'll have to make up for lost time."

Oh, he's flirting? Gilbert doesn't really know how to answer, well, seductively anyway, so he leans in for an Eskimo kiss which Matthew happily participates in. "Should I keep dressing like this?" Gilbert asks, genuinely curious.

Matthew smiles warmly. "Only if you want to. No matter what you wear, I've been liking _you_ for _you_."

At this statement, Gilbert's heart is clenching up _so_ tightly and his stomach is doing _crazy_ flips. He_ really_ likes this boy.

So he leans in, kisses him with a delighted sigh, and thinks all the while,

_I've found someone who likes me for me, and I like them for them._

* * *

><p>CRAP ENDING. I KNOW. Review and tell me what you think? (Also, was I in character?)<p>

Translations  
>Mon ami- <em>my friend<em>  
>Ah, je suis désolé. Vous avez raison. Oui! Ce garçon est Matthew Williams- <em>Ah, I am sorry. You are right. That boy is Matthew Williams!<em>  
>l'amour- <em>lovethe love_  
>tombre en amour- <em>fall in love<em>  
>A mindenit, te szép- <em>gosh, you're handsome!<em>  
>mein gott- <em>my god<em>  
>mon dieu- <em>my god<em>  
>elle est une artiste- <em>she is an artist<em>  
>si- <em>yes<em>  
>ja- <em>yes<em>  
>mon cher- <em>my dear<em>

-Jankz :)


	2. in my skin tight jeans

**Title: **Operation Not to Hot  
><strong>Fandom: <strong>Hetalia Axis Powers  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>PruCan and Spamano + USUK mentioned in passing.  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Matthew Williams is shy, athletic, and invisible. He's perfectly fine with hiding behind his brother until he sees Gilbert Beilschmidt, AKA super-good-looking-geek. Matthew hopes to gain the courage to talk to him. But then the German basically transforms into a sex god and _guh_, how is he supposed to talk _normally_ to him?  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Swearing, innuendo, canoodling, and OOC-ness.  
><strong>Word Count: <strong>5,550 (ah, five more words and it would've been so cool)

_a/n:_ ;A; I'm literally sobbing with joy. I'm so glad everyone liked this story after reading it! *frolicks around*/SHOT Thanks you for your very kind reviews! I is a happy authoress. Thanks to the anons and fav-ers as well. *hands out cyber cookies*  
><em>an2: _This totally_fails_. It's an extra (Matt's POV) that you can read if you want. I suggest you don't. Agh. I'm sorry I butched your character, MATTHHEWWW! –dies-

**ANON REVIEWS  
><strong>**Sasha-** ;A; Thank you for your kind words! I was truly afraid the ending would ruin the rest of the story, but I'm so glad that's not the case!  
><strong>ASLKGCVDVDCFC- <strong>Does this count as an update? :D  
><strong>RainWatersCrystal<strong>**- **Your PM is disabled, so I thought I'd answer you here. IF WE GET MARRIED, WOULD YOU GIVE ME BANANA CHOCOLATE CHIP CAKE? THAT'S BASICALLY THE WAY TO MY HEART.

**Disclaimer:** Do not own Hetalia, Power Rangers, Nintendo, Skull Candy, Kingdom Hearts or Halo- waurghh!

* * *

><p>Matthew Williams grew up in Ottawa, Ontario with his doting mother. He was the kid watching animated cartoons and coughing up milk with his brother in kiddie pyjamas, holding his stuffed polar bear. His twin brother, Alfred, was adored by everyone. Matthew didn't mind so much, because he had friends and his mother never forgot about him (unlike his teachers, who frequently marked him absent). Mathew's mother was not unfair; she loved both her sons equally and treated them as so. One never received more than the other.<p>

Matthew did have a father. He moved to the United States after divorcing his wife, living the life of a bachelor freely. Unfortunately, the twin's mother fell ill and when Matthew and Alfred turned ten, he got full custody over them.

Matthew didn't complain. After his teary goodbye with his mother, life changed drastically: he fell completely under his brother's shadow.

He didn't get jealous or spiteful. He got upset and lonely. Of course, Alfred was his best friend, but it wasn't the same as being friends with someone who wasn't family. It just wasn't.

Matthew learned to get over this. So what if Alfred was the favourite of his father, peers, and teachers? Matthew would just have to transform like those animated characters, right?

So, Matthew made himself work. He and his brother were twins, and one of the things they shared other than breakfast was determination and a _love_ for sports.

Matthew became one of the best damn hockey players in their town.

He and Alfred grew closer now that athletics became a bigger bond between them, Matthew's father paid much more attention to him, and people _noticed_ him. It was amazing. It was perfect.

And Matthew liked it this way. He was getting everything he would ever need, and it was satisfying.

And then he transferred schools in his third year of high school.

* * *

><p>Matthew sighs discreetly as he is firmly placed at a lunch table by his over-enthusiastic brother, Alfred. He's talking loudly and laughing with a bunch of boys Matthew's never even seen before. It figures Alfred would round up so many people, even on the first day. They've only had two classes and everyone already knows Alfred. It's not as bad as Matthew thought it would be, however. Students are walking up to <em>him<em>, Matthew, and introducing themselves. Girls are winking and boys are grinning. Matthew comes up with two explanations:

1) They have confused him with Alfred. It happens so often, Matthew doesn't mind.

2) Maybe, _just maybe_, Matthew is getting to be as charismatic as his brother.

It would make sense, right? Earlier this morning in gym he was introduced to the entire soccer team, in which a one Antonio Fernandez Carriedo smiled and welcomed him warmly.

"There are team tryouts later. You got some muscle," Antonio had prodded Matthew's for once uncovered bicep. "Do you play baseball?"

Quietly, Matthew answered "No, hockey."

Antonio had grinned broadly and gave a huge speech about how the school had an ice rink _and_ a hockey team, encouraging Matthew to go to the try outs.

Back to the present, Matthew was poking his poutine. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea.

Someone tells a joke and everyone laughs, and Matthew is brought out of his daze. Alfred is laughing so wildly beside him, Matthew can't help but giggle.

"Oh!" exclaims a cheerleader with brown pig tails. She smiles. "When did you get here?"

"Me?" Matthew squeaks, and suddenly people are noticing him and talking to him, and Matthew is a bit overwhelmed. They're asking him to speaking French (damn, Alfred must have let it slip that he was bilingual) and some cheerleaders are staring flirtatiously at him. Matthew quietly answers questions ("I play hockey. I do speak French. Um, yes we have the same parents. My eyes? Oh yes, they are an unusual colour. Say something in French? Um, _vous tous parle beacoup_. What did I say? Uh…"), hands curling together in his lap awkwardly. He stares at his brother, who smiles reassuringly.

Alfred knows how uncomfortable Matthew gets around people (despite how he wants to be noticed), and gently encourages him to have more confidence. Well, gently most of the times. Other times he is shoving Matthew down a hall to talk to some people he's never even seen.

"You're absolutely adorable!" coos another girl. Alfred hides a snicker into the palm of his hand and Matthew smiles sweetly at the girl before glaring at his brother. Alfred having way too much fun watching him be mauled with words.

When the questions die down, Matthew breathes a sigh of relief. Everyone seems to be satisfied with his answers, and are now talking heatedly about tryouts. Matthew's stomach growls softly and he flushes embarrassedly. Reaching for his poutine, he notices Alfred munching on it.

Alfred looks sheepish (though the look is spoiled because fries are peeking out of his mouth) and clumsily digs around in his pocket for his wallet. When he pulls it out Matthew really has to resist groaning. Because it's an old_ Power Ranger_ wallet, one Alfred can't part with. Matthew doesn't really know the story but apparently some British kid Alfred liked when he was younger gave it to him before the kid moved. Alfred smiles as his thumb grazes the wallet before pulling out a five dollar bill and handing it to Matthew. "Here you go!"

Shaking his head Matthew fights the fond smile. "Right. Thanks. Next time try not to consume my meal." Alfred shrugs, continuing to eat the poutine. Matthew looks around the cafeteria, curious on what others are eating.

He sees two boys—who look identical. More twins, perhaps?—sitting with a muscular blonde boy, an Asian boy, and…oh, there's Antonio, rushing to the table. Matthew watches curiously as the Spanish soccer captain pounces on one of the brown haired boys, seemingly nuzzling the top of his head—woah! Did that boy just _knee_ him? What the heck? Antonio didn't seem disturbed or angry; in fact he's holding his injured stomach and continuing to talk happily. _What the heck_.

Matthew looks away, puzzled, and begins to notice everyone is eating poutine. Matthew assumes that's all there is. Not that that's a problem. Poutine is one of his comfort foods, after all. Though, he_ swore_ there was a pasta salad on the menu…So Matthew looks towards the cafeteria line. He doesn't want to line up if it's…too…

…long.

But he doesn't find himself looking at the cafeteria line.

He's looking into red eyes shielded by glasses.

Matthew's pretty sure everything freezes in those seconds. He's staring at a boy who's in a huge baggy sweater with the words "NINTENDO" across his chest. He's a bit awkward looking, but that's what's pulling Matthew in. He's awkward and lanky and has _hopelessly _tousled hair. But it's in that moment Matthew wants to get to know this boy.

But then the boy ducks his head quickly, manoeuvring out of his seat and speed walking out of the cafeteria.

Matthew—reserved, quiet _Matthew_—has never wanted to talk to someone so badly in his _life_.

It's in chemistry when he realizes, _oh, he's in my class.  
><em>

* * *

><p>Matthew is the smarter of the twins. While Alfred was swimming in charisma and all-around athletic talent and strength, Matthew was more intellectually inclined. He cares about his studies and is polite to his teachers. So it's no surprise that Matthew, although in the same grade as his twin, is taking courses above his grade level. Well, some of them anyway.<p>

Matthew walks into his next class, chemistry. He's nervous; he's only met the kids his age and a couple of seniors who got chummy with Alfred. So entering a grade twelve academic class was making him shake. Just a bit.

He takes a seat near the back, sort of centered in the middle. Everyone else is filing in slowly, laughing loudly while a few are blasting music from _Skull Candy_ ear buds. Matthew's pulling out his pencil and some paper from his binder when a loud _SLAM_ freaks everyone the _fuck_ out.

"Hello!" grins a man at the door, looking extremely boisterous. He has wavy brown hair a a flyaway curl. He's old, but handsomely so. His face is well defined and his body is in good shape. You'd think he'd be a stick in the mud, but he's grinning so widely that that possibility is thrown out the window. Matthew notices the roguish twinkle in his eye. It seems this teacher—who is probably their chemistry teacher—likes more than a bit of fun.

Everyone rushes to their seats, whispering a bit before silencing completely. The man comes to the front of the room at the desk and rests a suitcase down. Looking up he grins. "I'm Romero Vargas, the principal of this school. Of course, you guys probably know that, ahahaha!"

No. Matthew did _not_ know that.

"You probably also know your teacher is currently out for the day—doing god _knows_ what—so I'll be monitoring your class. Just do whatever you want, I don't care. Just don't acid anyone's arm off, 'kay?"

Some guys by Matthew high five each other. A group of girls giggled excitedly.

"Buuuuut~" Mr. Vargas continues, "I need to do attendance first. Then you guys can skip out or do whatever the heck you kids do. Ride ponies for all I know…" he mumbles the last part with a pout. Pulling out a white sheet he says: "When I call your name, say the name of a country!"

"…a country?" a girl asked, confused.

Mr. Vargas simply shrugs.

As Mr. Vargas reads off names in song, it is at this point Matthew realizes this school has people from all cultures. There's a girl named Katsuyasha who says Ukarine, a boy named Feliks who says Poland—even a boy named Berwald who says Sweden (at least, Matthew _thinks_ he said Sweden; he's mumbling and it's hard to hear).

"Matthew Williams!~" sings Mr. Vargas. Matthew is snapped out of his daze. Students are staring at him (from the corner of his eye, he feels like someone is staring _intensely_ at him) and waiting for him to say a country so Mr. Vargas can move on.

"Uh, Canada!" Matthew squeaks as someone says 'hurry up!'. A few students smile at this while Matthew slumps in his seat, face burning.

"Very nice! Okay, Gilbert Bei-lsch-midt!~"

Everyone looks around curiously—even Matthew. It's such a strong, German last name and Mr. Vargas had stumbled over it while singing.

Matthew looks to his right and nearly has a _fit_.

Because, there's that sweater-glasses guy and he's stretching with a yawn, sweater riding up _just a bit, _showing a strip of pale skin. He's not as big as the sweaters suggest; in fact, he's _skinny_. But Matthew can make out some muscle and _he likes what he sees_.

When the albino boy is done yawning he says, "Prussia."

Mr. Vargas laughs. "Prussia doesn't exist anymore!"

"It's the most awesome country to ever exist. Just take a look at the Austrian Succession." The boy mumbles as Mr. Vargas moves on to someone named Lars. Gilbert is fiddling with his pencil, clearly not paying attention to the rest of the class but Matthew is okay with that. If he was paying attention, he might notice Matthew staring. And Matthew's not sure if this guy will take offence to that or not.

Just as Matthew begins to look away, he's lost in red eyes again. Gilbert's staring right at him and they both just can't seem to stop.

It's Matthew who breaks it off, keeping his face straight and staring at his hands which rest gently on his desk.

He's going to talk to Gilbert. He's going to talk to Gilbert, learn about him, and maybe grow to be his friend.

…or maybe, Matthew thinks shyly as he glances at the boy, a bit more than 'just friends'.

* * *

><p>It's been two months since Matthew has basically eye-stalked the poor German, Gilbert Beilschmidt. And Matthew's head over heels for him. He doesn't even <em>know<em> when he started picking up all of Gilbert's habits and quirks. He can't even count the times he stared at Gilbert at the cafeteria or in class. Matthew knows a thing or two about Gilbert now:

1) He has an older brother named Ludwig Beilschmidt.

2) He's friends with Antonio and a boy named Francis Bonnefoy. Apparently they're the 'Bad Friends Trio'. Alfred asked and a girl said "They pull a lot of pranks. They have another name, too." The 'Bad Touch Trio'. Once again, Alfred asked why. Matthew was too busy spacing out about Gilbert 'bad touching' him. "Because Francis is a man-slut and Antonio is sexy." What about Gilbert? "Huh? Oh that albino kid. He's more of a tag-along, I think."

3) Gilbert is _not_ a fucking tag-along. He's actually an important part of the group, Matthew noticed. He's the middle guy, the guy who is flanked by a boy on each side as he gives careful (or not too careful) advice.

4) Gilbert's flustered face _makes Matthew malfunction_. Matthew is reverted to his shy, unsure self around this boy. The other day they bumped into each other, Matthew was apologizing _profusely_ (as was Gilbert, to Matthew's amusement).

5) He's definitely a gamer kid. He's always wearing sweaters with console names stretched across them, and sometimes he'll crack a joke in class that only Matthew, a handful of guys, and the occasional girl get.

6) He is _sexy_. Yeah, okay, to make things clear Matthew does _not_ have baggy sweater complex. He in fact has an oh-my-gosh-he's-peeling-off-his-gym-shirt fetish. Because after a day of sweaty basketball with his brother Alfred, Matthew glanced to the other side of the court and saw the other gym class. Which contains shirts and skins. And Gilbert just so happens to be on the skins side, which lead sot super-sexy-peeling-off-of-the-shirt time for Matthew. And so _what_ if all the cheerleaders on the side are giving him a 'ugh, _no_' look? It's their horrible loss. Because Gilbert _is_ amazing.

Gilbert's awesome (a word the German boy uses _a lot_), funny, dorky, _hot_, and everything Matthew _wants_ in a guy. He's obviously not shy and although he seems to lack some confidence, Matthew can relate to that because _hell_, Matthew is always thinking about how to make people like him and how to be like his brother.

But suddenly all that, _being popular_ crap is insignificant. He just wants to talk to Gilbert.

But he's honestly not sure _how_ to.

* * *

><p>"And he's always complaining how I'm too loud and stuff! I mean, yeesh! I'm not loud, I'm excited! He seriously has to get his panties out of twist! You know, I told him that and he nearly tackled me to the floor! I wish he wasn't such a stick in the mud! He was way more happy when we were little tykes!" Alfred quickly laughed, talking to his brother at the kitchen table excitedly. It's an hour after to school, and the boys decided to eat early.<p>

Matthew is making a tower with his sliced up carrots. School is over and he's got no homework, thankfully, but he's still mulling over one thing, or rather, person: Gilbert. He's _trying_ to focus on his brother's ramblings about a guy named Arthur Kirkland (and from what Matthew's seen over these past two months, they have some unresolved sexual tension), but he's too busy scolding himself. He had a perfect chance to talk to Gilbert today.

Gilbert was by his locker, fiddling with his DS and mumbling some German expletives (Matthew assumed, judging how rushed and angry he sounded). Matthew considers barrelling into him and claiming it was an accident, but that was probably a horrible idea. And then he saw the game as Gilbert turned his DS a bit.

_Kingdom Hearts_!

Matthew may not be game savvy, unlike Alfred, but he's played a few games and _Kingdom Hearts_ just so happens to be one of them. _He could start a conversation! _Quickly walking to the German boy's locker, clasping his binder so tight his knuckles are turning white, he opens his mouth—

"Ah! _Ma __petite __Canadienne_!"

And fucking Francis chose that moment to steal Matthew away and talk to him in French for the entire in-between class 10 minutes.

_AGH. FRANCIS._

"Mattie? Are you listening? Mattie!" Alfred pouts, poking Matthew with a fork.

Matthew snaps out of his daze. "Wu-what?

Alfred sighs deeply. "Mattie, you've been spacing out. What's up?" He grasps Matthew's wrist, prevent the boy from leaving the table and his uneaten meal.

Matthew fidgets uncomfortably. "Uh, nothing." His face is burning up and _agh Alfred is beginning to grin!_

"You totally want to _bone_ someone at our school!" Alfred exclaims, releasing Matthew and laughing wildly.

"W-what?" Matthew sputters in surprise. "N-NO! I like Gil—I mean, argh, there's no one!"

"Gil, huh?" Alfred smirks, eyebrows wiggling. "If I'm not mistaken, that's that nerdy albino kid, right?"

"Alfred, this conversation is over!" says the smaller blonde, sitting up and beginning to leave the table.

"I know someone who can help you get into his pants~"

"I don't want to get into his pants!" shouts Matthew, face cherry red. "I-I just want to talk to him!"

Alfred smiles, suddenly looking much more serious. "I'm glad you like someone…in our last school even though you were really popular you were so quiet…"

Matthew looks at his feet when Alfred says this. "For good reason. I was always…" _In your shadow._

Alfred, understanding the unspoken words, goes around the table and pulls his brother into a hug. "You're not invisible. Not anymore."

"I know…" Matthew sighs. But it isn't about being popular and loved anymore. Matthew just wants to talk to people he could possibly be comfortable with.

"Look, here, I'll call Elizabeta. She's like, this super awesome 12th grader!" Alfred grins excitedly. "She is totally into this stuff, too!"

"Matchmaking?" questions Matthew.

"Nah, gay romance."

"Alfred!"

"What?" the more muscular of the two says, looking like that was a perfectly good explanation. "She's totally into it. She has this club called the _Yow-whee_ Shippers. They live off this. She'll give you tips to talk to him. She's like, a childhood friend of his or somethin'."

"How do you even know all this?" Matthew says in awe. It's only been two months, but if asked, Alfred could list of details of everyone in their school.

"When you get around like I do—hey, don't laugh, I didn't mean it like that—you learn a lot about people." The blonde twin flipped out his cellphone, dialling a number expertly. He's listening to the phone, frowning.

"Hunh. Voicemail. She must be busy. Weird." Alfred sighs, putting his phone in his pocket.

"Good. I don't need help." Matthew insists. "I…I can talk to him on my own."

"Obviously not, little bro!" Alfred exclaims. "It's been like, two months since I've seen you go all goo-goo eyed in the caf!"

"W-what?" squeaks Matthew.

Alfred nods his head knowingly. "Call it bro's intuition. I was watching you while eating that yummy poutine." He scratches the back of his neck as Matthew looks like a cross between embarrassed and angry. "You know, I think he likes you, too."

Matthew shakes his head and leaves the kitchen. Frowning, Alfred follows after him. They end up in the living room when Alfred grabs his wrist firmly. "Mattie!" he whines.

"Alfred, don't you think he would've talked to me by now? He's not exactly shy!"

"Well, maybe he doesn't know how to! Like you!"

This makes Matthew freeze. He's awkwardly staring at his feet, not really sure how to reply to Alfred. Alfred doesn't wait for him to respond.

"Look, let's have a crazy-ass _Halo_ marathon! I'll get head-shots _and_ educate you on how to talk like a hero!" Matthew raises an incredulous eyebrow as his brother puffs out his chest.

"…Fine." Matthew sighs, Alfred releasing him with an excited whoop. Alfred runs and turns on the television and the xbox, grinning like a two year old.

* * *

><p>Matthew wakes up with a throbbing headache and the distinct feeling of his brother sleeping on his legs. <em>Ouch<em>. Matthew sits up, pushing his brother off his legs. He realizes he's in the living room because the television is still blaring and they're on the pull out couch.

The xbox controllers are in a tangled mess on the ground, a few cans of _Crush_ and _Moutain Dew_ littered on the floor. There's a bowl of half eaten popcorn near the couch, and a notebook's right beside it.

Oh, that notebook. Matthew blushes faintly, remembering how he wrote down Alfred's advice. It wasn't super amazing advice, really. It's something your teacher or mom might tell you, except, not as Alfred so wonderfully said it: "Mattie, freakin' _grow a pair_ and just walk up and say 'Hi, I'm Matthew'!"

Yeah.

After _that _(Matthew smacked his arm _really_ hard), Alfred told him to talk casually to him—no fake 'oh-sorry-I-bumped-into-your-manly-chest' moments (Matthew had spewed his _Mountain Dew_ everywhere when Alfred said this. How much did he _know_?). Matthew was to introduce himself and ask how Gilbert was doing. If Gilbert took the bait, Matthew would _politely_ ask he wanted to work on the new chemistry lab report. And then they'd fall in love and raise chickens (according to Alfred, anyway—Matthew smacked him again).

Then the rest of the night consisted of Alfred screaming at the television and Matthew ("_I'm soooo happy for you, little bro!"_), and Matthew helplessly getting his ass kicked by Alfred.

_We must've fallen asleep playing Halo_, Matthew thinks. He gets off the couch and tries to look for the remote to the television so he can check the time. It's under the couch (with something sticky Matthew doesn't even _want_ to know about) when Matthew finds it. Leisurely, he clicks the 'guide' button and stares at the menu…

And literally starts to _freak the fuck out_.

Because it's 8:45 in the morning.

And they have to be at school at _nine_.

* * *

><p>Matthew is pushing his brother through the school doors, shoving a lunch bag into Alfred's half-awake hands. He's dashing to his first class, World History.<p>

Thankfully, the teacher's also late.

With a sigh, Matthew plops into his chair, cursing the fact he brought his backpack. Oh well. He pulls out his binder and pencil (damn, his textbook is at home) when he hears some girls giggling and sighing.

"Did you see him? He's like, _sex_ on legs." a cheerleader says dreamily

"You wouldn't think that he would have so much muscle!" another girl sighs.

"You think he'd hookup with one of us?"

"I don't know; he basically brushed past Femke when she was panting all over him."

"Oh _crap_, do you think he's gay?"

Matthew rolls his eyes. Typical girl talk. Maybe he should move away from the back row this week. It was nothing but gossip.

"Damn it, all three of them are gay!"

"Maybe they have threesomes."

"Hell no—Antonio is _all over_ that sour Italian kid. You know, the principal's grandson."

"And I don't think Francis has _time_ to tap that ass. He already has enough threesomes and other somes."

Matthew, despite his complaints running through his mind, couldn't stop listening. They're talking about the Bad Touch Trio and Matthew is _severly_ confused. If they're not drooling over Antonio and Francis, that would leave—

"Gilbert Beilschmidt is so fucking sexy, it isn't even funny." says Femke, strutting over to her seat. Matthew watches as the other girls turn to frown at her.

"Girl, you're all over the Bad Touch Trio. First you fling yourself at Antonio—"

"We grew up together!" Femke interjects. "Lars and him never got along but we always did!"

"—and then Francis—"

"I needed some attention, okay? My boyfriend was being an ass!"

"—and now _Gilbert_. He wasn't even hot until today."

Matthew is frozen. _What the heck is going on?_ Matthew thinks Gilbert is _extremely_ handsome, but he's never heard any other girls talk about him. The Canadian feels a little…possessive, all of the sudden. _I haven't even talked to him yet. What right do I have?_

"Did you see those jeans? They looked _so_ good!"

"I saw him and Elizabeta shopping at the mall last night. Maybe that's why they were together?"

"Ohmygosh, are they _dating_?"

"No no! She's dating that guy with a pole up his arse—Roderich or something!"

Matthew let's his hit his desk with a loud 'thunk'.

Nobody notices.

They're too busy talking about Gilbert Beilschmidt.

(But, at least he knows why they got Elizabeta's answering machine).

* * *

><p>At lunch Matthew is rocking in his chair, nervously looking around. Where the heck is he? <em>Where the heck is Gilbert<em>?

He hasn't gotten a chance to see him yet—he's only heard _everyone_ talking about him. Everyone who talked to Matthew about random things (small talk, really) were now talking to Matthew about _Gilbert_'_s _'transformation'.

And while they talk to Matthew, Matthew is an utter _wreck_.

Because, a makeover means Gilbert is trying to impress someone, _right_?

Oh _god_.

"Wow, Mattie—you look like you're going to _snap_!" a voice says, sounding shocked. Matthew looks to his right, stopping his conversation with a cheerleader, watching Alfred slip into the seat with a plate of two burgers and large fries (looks like Alfred made a run to McDonalds).

Matthew chews his bottom lip. "Did you hear?"

Alfred nods. "Yeah, sounds like Gilbo-schmidt is the talk of the school."

"Yeah…"

"Dude!" Alfred exclaims, clapping Matthew's shoulder _hard_. Matthew glares, teeth clenching. "Stop looking so worried! If he's a hot piece of meat, it'll be easier to talk to him!"

Huh? What kind of logic was _that_?

And did his brother _really_ say 'hot piece of meat'?

"Don't gimme that look!" huffs Alfred. "Look, it won't be weird that you're suddenly talking to him! He's got a new look! You can compliment him and he won't be all 'wow, where'd this kid come from'. Though I think he has the hots for you too so—"

Matthew slaps a hand over Alfred's mouth. "_Shush!_ _Mon dieu_! There's people here!" That don't know Matthew's _gay_. For _Gilbert_.

And that would spread like _wildfire_.

Alfred pushes Matthew's hand away, beginning to munch on his burger. "Whatever you say, bro. This is basically your chance. Just remember what I said. Maybe you can go eat with him!"

Matthew perks up at this. Hey…maybe he _could_. Alfred grins victoriously. Because they both know Matthew gets along great with Antonio and Francis likes him. And…he could say there's no more room for him at this table.

Alfred actually was making _sense_.

Prepared to go over, Matthew glances at the usual Bad Touch Trio table—

And realized they're not there.

Well, _fuck_.

* * *

><p>It's in chemistry class when it happens.<p>

Matthew is sitting miserably in his seat. Every break between classes he would rush past people to Gilbert's locker, but he wasn't there. It was like Gilbert was purposely disappearing.

Then in chemistry, the girls began to giggle. The boys began to murmur. Matthew glances up, glasses falling down his nose a bit. And he sees him.

Gilbert.

And Matthew is pretty sure he's stopped breathing.

Matthew really wasn't ready. Everything Alfred told him: _whoosh_! Out his brain's window.

Because Gilbert looks _amazing_.

No wonder everyone is staring.

He's wearing nothing but bright colours, which make his eyes pop out. Matthew really _really_ has a thing for his eyes; which currently have a super sexy glasses frame over them. His plaid shirt fits perfectly on his body and that white v-neck shows a collar bone that's _always_ been hidden by sweaters. Gilbert takes a seat, wallet chain hitting the chair and making a metallic clinking noise.

Okay, _okay_. Maybe Matthew should go up and talk to him _now_. Before his brain fries any further. Okay, so what was he going to say—

And of course, Gilbert takes that moment to bend and place his book under his chair. Exposing a strip of skin as the v-neck and plaid shirt ride up his back.

Matthew was sure mentally, he was incoherently _yelling_.

Because he was suddenly at Gilbert's desk, looking at him intensely.

What happened to 'planned conversation'?

Oh god he was screwing this up.

He should go back—

Gilbert looks up and his eyes go wide, mouth dropping. His hands clench on and unclench and Matthew is thinking that's the most _adorable_ shocked reaction _ever_.

So he says the first thing that pops in his mind. Which really should've stayed in there.

"Are you trying to test me?"

Gilbert is silent for many seconds and Matthew is ready to squeak out a _thousand_ apologies. What the heck? _What the heck_? Why did he say that? Oh god, Alfred would _so _be laughing his ass off about this!

Then Gilbert answers, sounding a bit cheeky. "Test you?"

Something in Matthew snaps and he needs to talk to Gilbert _alone._ He needs to tell him how he feels because this is honestly too much. He grabs Gilbert's hand and pulls him out of his seat, guiding him quickly out of the classroom. Matthew tries to ignore the stares of all his class mates, his face burning in embarrassment.

_Smooth, Matthew. Smooth._

Matthew needs to say hello or something. But he doesn't stop walking until they're at a corner rather famous for couples to be making out in. Matthew's stomach does flips when he realizes this.

A little too roughly, he pins Gilbert to the wall. _Say hello say hello say—_

Gilbert is wearing skinny jeans, Matthew notices, not realizing he had done a once-over of Gilbert.

"Oh, _mon dieu_, you're wearing _skinny jeans_."

Gilbert's looking so pink, confused, and shocked; and Matthew's hormones are flying and he's _so nervous_. And when Gilbert looks down at himself, as if forgetting he's dressed up so _fantastically_, Matthew can't stop himself from leaning in and kissing the guy.

And it's so _perfect_.

Gilbert responds back and Matthew is melting. There's so much tongue and there's so much pressure; Matthew's never kissed anyone and this is incredibly sloppy. But that's what makes it so perfect. After so much helpless pinning, he's _finally_ kissing the boy he likes. And Gilbert's _kissing him back_, with just as much force. The hand that touches his hip makes Matthew shiver and make a weird noise. His hearts racing and there's hardly enough air…oh yeah, _air_.

Matthew pulls back, breathing in sharply. His eyes open and stares right into Gilbert's eyes, refusing to look away (he's glad their glasses didn't hit together).

So Matthew basically just dragged this boy from class to make out with him. Joy. Matthew is expecting a push or a shove, or some German expletives. Because Matthew _did_ act super crazy.

But instead:

"Wow."

Dumbly, Matthew nods at Gilbert's breathy, shocked voice. He's not sure what to say, either. He's trying to come up with an apology, but his brain really isn't cooperating.

"I guess it worked."

…wait, what?

Matthew realizes he says this out loud.

Because he's super confused. What worked?

Gilbert shifts awkwardly. "My awesome outfit. I finally got your attention."

Matthew's _attention_?

But…but…

"_You know, I think he likes you, too."_

Alfred was _right._ Gilbert…_Gilbert_ liked Matthew. Invisible, awkward _Matthew_.

He _so_ owes Alfred a meal at McDonalds.

The situation is too hilarious. Before he could stop the impending laughter, it escapes his lips. Gilbert is looking at him like he's an alien but Matthew too happy to care. "Getting my attention?"

"Yes?" Gilbert says, unsure. His look of confusion makes Matthew melt for the hundredth time, and the Canadian swoops forward, stealing a chaste kiss. He pulls back, trying to control the utterly love-struck smile on his face. "You caught my attention way before all this. I noticed you on the first day back to school. You're in my chemistry class, you know."

"O-Oh." Gilbert says, and then he chuckles. Matthew can't hold back his grin. "Wow, we're stupid. That is pretty unawesome."

Matthew agrees completely. "We'll have to make up for lost time." Playing video games, getting to know each other more, meeting each other's friends, hopefully more kissing…

Matthew is happily pleased when Gilbert grins broadly, leaning into for an Eskimo kiss. With nervous butterflies fluttering in his stomach, Matthew reciprocates the affection.

"Should I keep dressing like this?" Gilbert asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

Matthew is sure he's going to say the most cheesy fucking thing ever, but it's perfect and it's exactly how he feels. Hopefully Gilbert won't mind. "Only if you want to. No matter what you wear, I've been liking _you_ for_ you_."

Gilbert is silent for a moment, a look of relief crossing his face. He leans in with a fond smile and kisses Matthew until the Canadian sees fireworks behind his eye lids.

All of the populars who talk to Matthew because he's brothers with Alfred, all of the phone numbers on his cell phone, screaming out Matthew's new popularity—they don't amount to this one, extremely amazing moment.

They don't amount to finally talking and kissing Gilbert Beilschmidt.

* * *

><p>Fail ending ftw! Please accept my deepest apologies for any plot!holes. AGH.<p>

**Translations**

_vous tous parle beacoup_- you all talk a lot  
><em>ma petite canadienne<em>- my little canadian  
><em>mon dieu<em>- my god


End file.
